Late
Sunday afternoon Constantine
received a phone call from Vanessa asking him to come by that
evening. It
was actually very urgent, and he should make sure that Lucian came as
well. Nonplussed by this Constantine
promptly arrived at six-thirty to find only Aquilla Rogers and Giles
Seinkewicz
there.

Giles was ruminating out loud. "I can't talk to Natasha, can't
write
letters to Natasha, and can't telephone Natasha, because Dramsheet
refuses to
tell me where she lives, I can't get a divorce because Natasha won't
acknowledge
my existence and has no intention to be separate from me,
notwithstanding the
fact that I haven't seen her since well before my marriage, I can't
commit
adultery because Natasha could accept and prevent me from suing for
divorce, I
can't commit bigamy because of Dramsheet's precautions, I can't audit
Natasha
because of Dramsheet's precautions, I can't declare Natasha legally
dead
because she keeps sending me statements telling me she's alive, I can't
bribe
Dramsheet because he can't be bribed, I can't blackmail Dramsheet
because he
can't be blackmailed, I can't hypnotise Dramsheet because he can't be
hypnotised, I can't threaten Dramsheet because he can't be threatened,
I can't
booze Dramsheet up, because he doesn't drink, I can't force Dramsheet
to take
amphetamines, truth serums, tranquilizers, because it simply wouldn't
work, I
can't cause a scandal that would raise Natasha's attention because it
would
ruin my father in the next election, I can't run advertisements in the
European
papers because I'm mildly dyslexic, it costs a fortune, and besides I
already
tried it two years ago and had no luck, I can't threaten her with a
suicide
note because Dramsheet would refuse to send it, I can't threaten
Dramsheet with
suicide because when I took out a steak knife and said I'd slash my
wrists he
said could you do it outside, please, we just had the carpet
cleaned, I
can't send a private investigator to find Natasha, because I already
did, and I
just wasted my money, I can't sue for desertion because she was
never
with me, not even at our wedding, I can't pray to my patron saint, or
my
father's or Adrian's or anyone else's to bring my wife back, because
she's
Jewish, I can't get an annulment because I married in good faith, and I
can't
show Natasha married in bad faith, I can't publish any appeal in the
paper,
because Dramsheet said the whole matter was too intricate for any
editor to
understand and he was right, I can't even get Dramsheet to tell me the
name of
the go-between who gets Natasha's correspondence and takes it to
Dramsheet and
gets Dramsheet's correspondence and takes it to Natasha, because
Dramsheet told
me the original person died and was replaced with someone completely
different
who never puts his (or her) return address on the envelope, but he
knows the exact
name and address anyway and would tell it to me were it not for the
fact that
the only slip of paper which possesses the exact name and address got
lost when
you burgled my apartment looking for information and wasn't it nice of
me not
to press charges on you, Giles Seinkewicz, and worst of all, worse than
all the
lost papers, the useless drugs, the impossible divorces, the heedless
prayers,
the incompetent investigators, worse than all that and so much more is
that I
can't betray Natasha, because whenever I see her picture I can't help
but love
her and she's the only person I love, except my friends and family, and
I can't
live without her, and it's insane and it's clichéd and it's
unbelievable, and
unfortunately its true, God help me!"

Constantine
sat beside him. "Oh hello, Constantine,
I was just thinking out loud. Did you hear the news last
night?" Constantine
hadn't, it was one of his many vices not to pay attention to local
affairs. "What do you think of this Hermann case?"

"Hermann who?"

"Professor Albert Hermann, the secretary at the Vatican Embassy who was
found dead in his apartment Friday morning. It's quite a shock,
because it
looks like foul play. You see, he's one of the leading
benefactors of a club
I belong to..."

"Oh really?" said Constantine,
suddenly uninterested.

"...the Philhellenon club. It's a Catholic club and Hermann
contributed
quite a lot to it. I only met him a few times, but I was struck
at what a
kind and thoughtful person he was. He was a nice old man, I mean
it's
really horrible to murder a man once he's in his late sixties.
And then
there's all this strange talk that he was a leader of a group of
strange people
known as the Flannery O'Connor Brigade..."

"What did you just say?" but before Giles could respond,
Vanessa appeared. When Charles arranged for the meeting to be
held, Elizabeth
suggested that Vanessa go out and get some snacks. This she did,
though
not with good grace, and she had now returned. After putting the snacks
down, she
moved over to where the two men were sitting.

"Hello, Constantine.
How
are you doing today?"

"I'm fine. But what's this about the Flannery O'Connor Brigade
that Giles
is talking about?"

"Yes, yes, that's what the meeting is for. But I'd like to talk
to you
for a few minutes before we begin." Constantine
got up and followed her into her bedroom, leaving behind Giles, who was
rather
annoyed until Adrian
appeared.
Vanessa lolled about on her bed, while Constantine
sat on a nearby chair. "How's your story coming along?"

As
it happened Constantine
had not
managed to write a sentence in the past nine days. But he was too
embarrassed to say that to Vanessa and he decided to think up a
paragraph right
there and then. "I haven't done much, only a paragraph.
I've
been very busy, what with the end of term and everything. It sort
of goes
something like this:

"Within a few year the grove of thorns had renewed itself to its full
size
and potency, and as it grew larger and larger the hopes of the
villagers grew
less and less. There were some attempts to simply dig the grove
away, but
these were futile and half-hearted; even the diggers had no illusions
about
their success as they broke their metal shovels against the unyielding
roots. Some clever persons proposed digging a trench, which would
drain
off much of the grove's water supply, and make the thorns more
vulnerable.
And so the whole town set out one intolerably warm morning to break
their backs
digging out a grand trench. But the thorns had ways of getting
their
water and they made sure the villagers had to drink leached
limestone.
With each failure hope dimmed and more fantastic plans were tried with
less and
less confidence. A horde of rabbits was brought in to nibble the
thorns.
They caused innumerable damage to the rest of the village and when they
were
directed to the grove, the thorns would gouge them to death.
Eventually
they all had to be exterminated. Prayer services were held near
the
thorns, but the worshippers got more brambles than assistance.
Some
people thought that you could clip all the thorns away, but the thorns
had
magical powers, they would regrow faster after each cut. And soon
they
tired even of that, and the fools who attacked the thorns with its
clippers
soon returned with no branches and with bloody hands. And so the
town
council came to the conclusion that nothing could be done, that nothing
should
be done, and that the grove of thorns was a unalterable fact of
life. Was
it not wicked to try to change the course of life? And had not
every
attack on the grove make it stronger than before? And was the
grove
really all that dangerous? It was far away, and only mildly
annoying, but
with time it could be adapted to, and that was the way that it should
be.
And this conclusion about the benevolence of the grove, or the
benevolence of
its lack of malevolence, soon spread throughout the townspeople, until
all
believed it, until all had to believe it, because it was the only way
to deal
with the slowly growing thorns, whose roots had dug deep into the land
underneath the village, which were slowly growing wider and stronger,
until one
day it promised to have the whole town within its grasp, and on that
day would
smash it to pieces."

Constantine
stopped, and took a deep breath. "Rather long for a paragraph."
said Vanessa.

"Of course now that everyone has surrendered to the grove I'm at a loss
at
what to do next. I'm not even clear if the grove is really all
that evil,
and perhaps it should even reward the villagers for not trying to
destroy
it."

"That sounds like a bad idea, the grove doesn't deserve to be
flattered.
At best you're going to make it look like a benign despot. You're
not
just being kind to it because it's the ecologically correct thing to
do?"

"I will have to think about it."

"Seriously, Constantine, I
think this could be a very good story and I'd really like to know how
it
ends. Why don't we keep in touch, we don't see enough of each
other."

"That's what all my friends say. But Mathematics can be so
time-consuming.
Why I haven't even seen Charles since Friday."

"You work too much."

"All my friends also say that."

"You know I sometimes write stories myself. Perhaps you should
come over
to see them. I wrote one story last Thursday for this rather
silly paper
I'm working on, and while I couldn't actually put it in the essay
I..."
But just then there was a loud booming voice, followed by the sound of Adrian
falling into a pillow. It was clear that Lucian Rudman had
arrived and
that she was looking for her brother. Constantine
got up, just in time to see Charles and Elizabeth enter the apartment.

Charles quickly called the meeting to order and had the eight of them
sit
around a table while he had Vanessa hand out pencils and writing paper,
while Elizabeth
put the snacks on the table and mildly criticized Vanessa for not doing
it
herself. Charles stood at the head of the table, with Elizabeth
at his side, Constantine
being
among the exact half of the people present who did not notice the
couple's
wedding rings. Charles began to speak with an appropriate air of
gravity.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have called you here because you are the
closest
friends that I have, and all of us together face a very strange and
peculiar
threat. You may have heard about the strange death of the leading
Catholic
scholar Albert Hermann. You may have also heard strange rumours
inadequately
reported to the press about the existence of a strange organization of
militant
Catholics known as the Flannery O'Connor Brigade. Half of the
people here
present have no idea who Flannery O'Connor is, what the Brigade is, and
what
its plans are. What I am going to tell you is that the Flannery
O'Connor
Brigade is a dangerous organization dedicated to goals that are as yet
unknown. The goal of this meeting is to find out what the
Brigade's plans
are, and if necessary, how to counter them.

"Some of you knew Professor Hermann as a kindly old man, and are no
doubt
surprised at the idea that he could ever be dangerous." (Giles
and Adrian
were indeed surprised.) "I must therefore tell of you of two
incidents
that will underline my concern. All of you were at the party held
here a
week ago last Friday, and you may remember that the two of us, along
with
Constantine and Vanessa, were the last ones here. As we were
returning to
our apartment two strange figures appeared and threatened us.
They announced
that they were members of the so-called Brigade and were carrying
volumes of
St. Thomas Aquinas with sticks of dynamite wrapped around them.
Only late
last Thursday, when I had the opportunity to investigate this incident
more
closely, did I realize that the sticks were actually fakes. But I
do
remember seeing vials in the volumes that looked suspiciously like
nitroglycerin
capsules. Anyway, they confronted the four of us, but they only
did two
things. The first thing was to ask for Pr. Vivian Chelmnickon's
address."

Charles, who did not like being interrupted, cut off Giles. "The
second
thing they did was to take a book out of Elizabeth's
bookcase, stomp on it several times, and replace it with a completely
different
one. Then they left. Now you can't exactly go to the police
with
this sort of thing, so we didn't."

"What book did they take?" asked Giles.

"I don't remember actually. I didn't pay too much attention to
it."

Vanessa did remember however, and she reached into the bookcase to
extract
Diary of a Country Priest and handed it to Giles. "Well, the
Brigade
certainly has good literary taste. My father forced me to read
this book
years ago." He flipped through the book, and as he did so, the
bug fell
out. He picked it up as everyone moved closer to see it.

"It would appear that the Brigade wasn't interested in Chelmnickon's
address.
I think this solves one mystery."

"No it doesn't." Lucian objected. "Why would a group of
Catholic fanatics want to bug this apartment?"

Charles picked up the bug, and then with one sure movement, smashed it
with one
of the snack bowls. "Do you think they heard anything important
in the
past few days?"

"Not likely." said Vanessa. "Elizabeth
wasn't here for most of the past week, so there wouldn't be much
talking.
There is one thing they would have found out."

"She means our little secret." whispered Elizabeth.

"Thank you, Vanessa." said Charles, who then resumed his presentation.
"I think the second incident will help clarify a few
questions." And so he explained about how Hermann had confronted
Charles' father and Ignatius Wilentz, how he claimed that his life was
in
danger, how he thought that two members of the Philhellenon club,
Senator
Pierre Veniot and Librarian Veruca Manzoni, had been murdered, how he
gave the
titles of his five fellow members, how he said he had some sort of
appointment,
and how Ignatius passed this information to Oliver Corpse.
"Intriguing,
isn't it?"

Constantine
then spoke up. "Last Tuesday Lucian, Adrian and Giles confronted
a
group of insurance agents who were trying to take over the Alberta
city of Medicine Hat.
I mean
if they hadn't faced that, then I wouldn't even think of mentioning
what I saw
on Thursday evening."

"Why, what did you see?" asked Vanessa.

"You'll never believe this, but two dead Italian Fascist intellectuals
materialized
in my apartment. They briefly throttled me with a noose, and then
they
mentioned that there was a conspiracy to murder someone who was already
dead,
or would be dead before they conspired to kill him. They also
said
something about a plague of butterflies that infected this man Corpse's
office,
and something about a revival meeting for Wagner."

"Did you say a plague of butterflies?" Constantine
nodded and Vanessa then related how Oliver Corpse received a letter
filled with
twenty Columbian butterflies, and how in a fit of shock he went around
crushing
them all to death, and smearing his hands with their blood.

"Butterflies don't have blood." corrected Lucian.

"Well these ones certainly did. And Corpse was absolutely
horrified when
he saw them. He started raving about women and sex and that this
was some
sort of divine punishment. But what's this about Veruca Manzoni
being murdered?
I was just at her funeral six days ago. Everyone was extremely
tactful
about the cause of death, so I basically assumed it was suicide."

"You assumed wrong, Vanessa." said Charles. "I had Elizabeth
call Cheryl Monagham, she's involved with the investigation.
Eventually, Elizabeth
managed to wheedle two crucial facts from her. First, when you
connect
the three deaths together, you form a triangle."

"Well of course you would." said Adrian.

"A right-angled isosceles triangle facing due north?"

"Well, I suppose not."

"No, I didn't think so either. The second fact was about Senator
Veniot's
death. All the evidence points to suicide, except for one crucial
fact.
There is a spot of semen on his glasses (not his own) which shouldn't
be
there."

Constantine
sighed. "So what we have is a serial murderer who makes his
murders
look like suicides, a secret society with unknown aims, insurance
agents and
italian fascists materializing in the oddest of places, and a whole
host of
other strange and peculiar phenomenon."

"Where do we even begin?" asked Vanessa.

"What we should do," said Charles, "is to write down on the
paper we have before us all the questions we can think about the
strange events
that we have seen recently. We'll then try to answer each
question in
turn." The others agreed, and soon they had a list of
twenty-three
questions.

1. What is the Flannery O'Connor Brigade?

2. Who is The Murderess of the Order of the Stigmata?

3. Who is The Defender of St. Rose of Lima?

4. Who is The Legionmeister of the Signet of Saint Luke?

5. Who is The Master of the Marthas?

6. Who is The Holder of the Averroes Seal?

7. Since Hermann's death, who leads the Brigade?

8. Why did they bug this apartment?

9. Why did they ask for Vivian Chelmnickon's address?

10. Were the deaths of Senator Veniot, Professor Hermann, and
Veruca Manzoni
part of a murderous conspiracy?

11. If so, who is the murderer?

12. Why is there a spot of semen on the glasses of Senator Veniot?

13. Where did the Chinese spice-box that killed Hermann come from?

14. How did Veruca Manzoni die?

15. If this is the sign of a serial killer, is it possible that
he (or
she) will strike again? And if so, who is to be the victim?

16. Who is writing anonymous letters to Vanessa?

Vanessa then supplied Question 17: Why have there been no more
letters
since I talked about the matter with my uncle?

18. Mrs. Concrete (Elizabeth's
mother) claims she saw an angel last Monday. Is there really an
angel
hanging around Ottawa?

19. Why did a group of insurance agents invade Medicine
Hat, a group of Columbian butterflies invade
Oliver
Corpse's apartment, and two long-dead Fascist intellectuals invade Constantine's
apartment?

22. Why is there a strange French-speaking lady running around Ottawa
talking to total strangers about how nasty black people are?

23. What is behind the conspiracy to kill someone who is already
dead?

"Personally," said Charles, "I don't know if we can get all the answers
to these questions. It's more likely we're looking at the pieces
of several
different puzzles, than one giant puzzle together. But we'll have
to
assume the contrary for the time being. What we need now is some
informed
speculation."

Giles spoke up. "What about this Francophone?"

"Giles, I don't wish to be blunt, but we'd make far more progress if we
answered the first question first, and the penultimate question
penultimately.
Not the other way around."

"Yes. This woman talked to Vanessa and Adrian the day before
Senator
Veniot died."

"She wouldn't happen to have been a middle-aged, conservatively
dressed,
rather serious woman, would she?"

"She would. Why did you ask?"

"You wouldn't happen to be talking about my aunt?"

"Your aunt?"

"Yes. My father had five siblings, three of whom were girls, one
of whom
happens to be Adrian's
mother. But although they are reasonably charming people and have
fairly
attractive young daughters whom I might have married had I not met, or
had I
not not met Natasha, none of them can speak French. So the woman
you are
likely talking about is my mother's younger sister, Catherine Jeannette
Vovelle. She's a very strange woman, she's a devout Catholic but
she's
been estranged from her husband for at least two decades. My
mother was
always a little afraid of her, it had something to do with croquet
mallets. Mother was also a little envious because my aunt was
apparently
able to have children with no problem at all. My mother always
wanted to
have more than just one child, actually and...."

"Get on with it!" interrupted Elizabeth.

"Anyway, Aunt Catherine had two children, both girls. The younger
was a rather normal girl; the only strange thing about her was that she
was always
very good at trigonometry. The older one was very strange
indeed. She
was named Pandora Vovelle and she was a few years older than me, and
the thing
that I remember about her most was that she would sometimes say that
she
mistook me for the Christ child. Actually she said she wanted to
mistake
me for the Christ child..."

"Yeah," said Lucian, "because you turn water into wine all the
time."

"You're wandering again." Elizabeth
sniped.

"Yes, you're right. At any rate, the crucial thing is that my
aunt has
known Professor Hermann for years, she even knew him back when she and
my
mother were in college in Nova Scotia.
If she were here in Ottawa
she would
be the person most likely to be a member of the Flannery O'Connor
Brigade."

"But we don't even know if she is here."

Giles took out his wallet, inside of which contained pictures of his
parents,
Adrian, some of his cousins, and Natasha but no portrait of his
maternal
aunt. So he took some paper and drew a picture of a stern grave
woman and
passed it to Vanessa.

"That's her, all right. Now all we've got to do is find
her.
Does she have any relatives in the city?"

"Well my father is her brother-in-law, but I haven't heard anything
from
him about her visiting us. No, you see my aunt often goes around
the country
talking to various parishes, and usually they put her up at one of the
houses
of the parish officials. So if we called each of the parishes up,
we
might be able to find her."

"Giles, there must be several dozen Catholic churches in this city."
said Elizabeth.
"There has to
be a short-cut. Can you contact her daughters and see if they
might
know?"

"No. I haven't heard from Pandora Vovelle in years. The
last
thing I heard about her was that she had gone to Ulster
several years ago, but after that, nothing. And as for her
sister, I
presume she's in some sort of university, but I wouldn't know
where. As
far as I know they could be on another planet or just next door.
I don't
know how to find them."

Charles spoke up. "Giles, you seem to have a positive gift for
mislaying
your relatives. Well, one of the members must be a woman, because
otherwise
there wouldn't be a position called the Murderess of the Order of the
Stigmata. But we can't make rash conclusions. If we only
knew who
some of Hermann's associates were, we could fill some of the positions."

Constantine
spoke up. "All three people who have died were members of the
Philhellenon club. If we could go over there and tactfully ask
them some
questions..."

"Which you can't" said Giles, "because only Catholics can enter
the building."

"That's a strange rule. Surely there must be exceptions."

"No, there isn't. The Philhellenon club has special arrangements
with the police, the fire department, the city government, the
plumbers' union,
the carpenters' union, and the painters' unions, so that only Catholic
representatives
could enter the building. No exceptions, whatsoever."

Vanessa spoke up. "Well surely if there was a beaten woman on the
entrance's
steps and she was pleading for protection from rapists or criminals
they would
let her into the building?"

"There's a very ugly brass statue of Sir John Thompson, Canada's
first Catholic prime minister, right beside the front door. It
weighs
fifteen kilograms and has a can of mace in the center, and it's used
especially
for circumstances like this."

"He's right you know," said Adrian.
"Hermann made sure that only Catholic prostitutes could enter the
building."

"Why would they be inside in the first place?" asked Lucian.

"He thought that if you couldn't abolish prostitution you could try
rechristian
it. So all the members of the club are allowed to order a free
prostitute
once a month, the cost to be paid out of a special fund from the Vatican
embassy. I actually tried one of them; Giles let me use his for
the month."

"Oh really? And what was she like?"

"Utterly awful. She stripped off all my clothes, tied me naked to
one of the bedposts, and then lectured about Racine
for an hour and a half."

"Sounds nasty."

"I know, and the worst thing about it was that she had never heard of
Lucien
Goldmann."

"I take it this is typical of prostitution in the club?"

"Yes, that would be the case."

"And am I correct in assuming that the special Vatican
fund has a large surplus at the end of every month?"

"Come to think of it, yes. I didn't really notice that before."
said Giles. "But the simple fact is that only Catholics are
allowed
into the Philhellenon club."

"Do you know any members of the Club?" asked Constantine.

"I certainly do. I'm one myself."

"Well couldn't you bring one of us along, and claim that you're having
us
considered for membership."

"I'm sorry, but the butler is very thorough about checks. He'd
ask for
some sort of proof that you were a Catholic, and it's no good trying to
forge
something, because Hermann wrote a book on how to check forged
identification."

"Wonderful, how ridiculously thorough." said Charles. "How
could we have eight people meeting in Ottawa
and have only two Catholics among them? That means that only you
and
Adrian can get into the building."

"Is that really wise?" interrupted Aquilla Rogers for the very first
time.
"If the members of the Flannery O'Connor Brigade belong to the
Philhellenon
Club, how do we know that Giles isn't a member as well? And
didn't he
leave the Friday night party long before everyone else?"

"That's complete crap!" shouted Giles.

"And what about Adrian?
Can we trust him as well?"

"Of course we can trust him." said Lucian. "It's ludicrous
to believe that he would be part of any conspiracy."

"Thank you, Lucy." said Adrian.

Lucian abruptly boxed Adrian's
ears. "Adrian
couldn't
get laid in a brothel if he was stuck in a closet with five naked
hookers and
the Hope diamond. Obviously, the Brigade isn't going to employ
somebody
that incompetent. Besides, I helped take him home from the party
so he
couldn't have gone back there."

"Perhaps." said Charles. "But maybe Aquilla has a
point. Perhaps it would be wise if there was someone we could
depend on
in the Philhellenon Club aside from the two of you."

"Yes," agreed Constantine.
"It would be nice if we had some real grown-ups on our side. I
have
the unpleasantly nervous and all too familiar feeling that the eight of
us are
completely out of our depth. So, who belongs to the club?"

Giles thought for a moment. "Well my father does. And Pr.
Chelmnickon
and Pr. Corpse belong as well. And my wife's first husband, Dr.
Roget, is
there as well. There's an official from Tanzania,
named Naipaul, and there's my wife's lawyer, Louis Dramsheet.
Quite
frankly, I think he's the one most likely to belong to the
Brigade. He's
deliberately cut off all access between me and my wife, he's very
serious, and
as far as I know he's celibate. There are some others, but they
don't
come as often, and they would have little contact with Hermann."

"What are we supposed to tell these people anyway once we've found
them?"
asked Adrian. "It's
not
as if we knew a heck of a lot about the Brigade, and perhaps they'll
think
either we're mad, or that the Brigade's harmless. We need some
more
information."

"Hermann kept a safe within the Philhellenon Club, and he might have
kept
the most important stuff there."

"But surely the Brigade would have opened it by now?"

"Yes, you're right. But suppose if they hadn't. Or perhaps
if
they did, they didn't remove everything. There might be something
we
could use."

Aquilla's eyes opened wide. "That means that Adrian
could open the safe! We could get what we wanted."

Giles remembered his cousin's strange ability with locks. "Yes,
that
would work. Of course, the safe is kept in a special room that
only club members
can open. And not all club members have the key to the door,
which if you
tried to pick would set off an alarm. I don't for a start.
We'd still
need someone's help to get inside the room."

Adrian
boldly stood up. "Don't worry about a thing team! I'll go
over
to the Philhellenon club first thing tomorrow and pick the safe
open. It'll
be no problem at all."

None of the others shared his confidence, but Charles agreed to go
along with
it. If worse came to worse, and it probably would, Adrian
could count on Giles and his uncle to avoid any actual
prosecution. It
was now time to deal with more practical matters. "Whatever is in
the safe can help us only so much. Let's go back to the
questions,
and try answering them in order. Questions one to nine deal with
the
Flannery O'Connor Brigade. Why would a group of Canadians name
themselves
after a female writer from the Southern United States?
Possibly because they found her to be especially inspiring. But I
think,
considering Hermann's travel schedule and the number of degrees he has
from
different countries, that the Brigade is an international
organization.
If that's the case, there may be some mention of it in the
international
press. Constantine,
I want
you to look up all the periodical files you can find, and search for
any
information about the Brigade, Professor Hermann, and Mrs.
Vovelle.
Giles, I want you to call all the churches in the city and try to find
where
your aunt is. In fact, you should start right now. Try the
areas
either near the university or near Drogheda
apartments." Giles got up and went to the telephone. "Now
what about those positions?"

"Four of the titles have a name in them." noticed Lucian.

"Perhaps this could be a clue. Let's start with the
Defender.
Does anyone know anything about St. Rose of Lima?"

There was silence all around the table. Adrian
broke the silence. "Lima's
in Peru,
isn't
it?"

"Does anyone have anything better to add?"

"St. Rose of Lima could
refer
to a Latin American. Perhaps a Chilean or a Nicaraguan."
said
Vanessa.

"Giles, are there any Latin Americans in your club?" Giles, who
was trying to talk to the Croatian janitor of the Croatian Catholic
church, shook
his head.

"Thank you, Adrian. Constantine,
while you're hanging around in the library, find out all can about St.
Rose. O.K., what's this about Saint Luke?"

Adrian
spoke up yet again. "Saint Luke wrote the Gospel of Luke and the
Acts of the Apostles."

"Thank you once again, Adrian, but I knew that much before."

"Actually," interrupted Lucian "It's very unlikely that the
biblical figure we know as Luke wrote either of the two books."

"Well what about the passages of Acts, which refer to himself in first
person?"
queried Adrian.

"Well, there are some very interesting explanations for this. You
see,
when we look closer at the passage..."

"Fascinating, I'm sure," reinterrupted Charles. "But what
we're really interested is in who the Legionmeister is. What sort
of clue
is this?"

"It's times like this, I wish I went to more Knights of Columbus
meetings."
mused Adrian.

"There are actually a number of ways we can decode what St. Luke
means.
We could take the passages in Acts where Luke is referred to in the
first
person, and compare that to the similar chapters in Luke, or the other
gospels,
or all the other books of the bible, or the apocrypha and
pseudepigraphia.
Perhaps there's a name there that's important. We can use a
number of
methods to decode it. We can use the anagrammatical method to
search for
our man. Or perhaps the whole sentence is an anagram, and should
be
decoded as such. Or perhaps we could use 49 simple ciphers on all
the possible
names. Or perhaps we could go running around calling for the
Legionmeister
of Saint Luke to appear and the first one who pays attention is the
man.
Or..."

"Thank you for this introductory lesson in cryptography, Lucian."
said Charles. "But we need something a little more
practical.
Now the way I see it, St. Luke was a doctor. Now, how many
doctors are
there in the Philhellenon Club?"

"That's hard to say." said Adrian.
"Does it mean a doctorate or a doctor? Chelmnickon and Corpse
have
the former. Does Dramsheet have one? I'm not sure.
And then
there's Dr. Roget. He was actually rather close to Hermann, or
that's
what Giles said." At just this moment, Giles hit the jackpot.

"It's fantastic! Aunt Catherine is currently residing in a church
in
a French neighborhood near Hull.
She's staying at the home of the parish's accountant or
something. And
get this. The accountant's wife remembers that my aunt held a
meeting
with four other people on Friday morning. Two of the people left
before
she could see them, but she can describe what the other two looked
like."

Charles smiled. "Five positions--five people. Giles, give
them
Dr. Roget's description." Giles did so, and was astonished to
find
that his wife's first husband had very clearly attended the
meeting.
"As for the other woman she seems to be a rather plain person, in her
early thirties I would think. The wife can't remember her very
well,
except that she when she saw her earlier, she was accompanied by some
servant,
an Oriental woman."

"An Oriental woman. Was this servant a rather young woman, with
long
hair?"

"Yes, that would describe the woman she saw."

"Ms. Roda Ellen Van P---."

"She must have been the one who had the bug installed." said Elizabeth.
"Giles, is your aunt at home right now?"

"At the moment, no. She went out to do her laundry, but she'll be
back
in a few minutes."

"Giles, I want you to tell the accountant's wife that you are going to
come
around for a visit, and to make sure that your aunt doesn't
leave." Giles
quickly terminated the conversation, and the was about to go out when
Aquilla
stopped him with a single question. "Won't your aunt recognize
your car?"

Giles considered the problem. "I suppose it's possible. But
she shouldn't suspect anything at all."

"Well obviously she suspects something because she had this apartment
bugged
a couple of hours after you left it one night. I propose that it
would be
wiser if I drove Giles there, just to keep an eye on him. And
there are
all sorts of other connections between you and the Brigade."

"That makes the most sense." agreed Charles. "All right,
Aquilla, take your car and drive it over there. Giles, perhaps
you should
keep your head down, so that no-one sees you. We don't know what
the
Brigade is like or what it wants, but we should be very careful just in
case." The two agreed (Giles very reluctantly) and they were
about
to set off, but their absence was delayed for a few minutes as Aquilla
had lost
her car keys.

"Well, I think it's most logical to think that the Legionmeister is Dr.
Roget. And given the little we know about Hermann's relationships
I think
it would be most likely for Madame Vovelle to take over the Brigade
after his
death. What can we find about a person named the Master of the
Marthas?"

Constantine
spoke up. "Martha is the name of the older sister of Mary, or is
it
Mary Magdalene, I can never remember whether the two Marys are separate
individuals. Anyway there's a place where she rebukes Jesus for
spending
too much time about Mary. And I think there's some suggestion
that Mary,
or Mary Magdalene, was a prostitute of some sort."

Vanessa chimed in. "Ms. Van P---'s maid was going to be a
prostitute
before Ms. Van P--- found her. And she goes through these
elaborate negotiations
with the building's landlord to make sure that he doesn't take sexual
advantage
of her."

"So it would make the most sense for her to be the Master of the
Marthas."
Charles was satisfied at having solved one more question. "But
who
is the Holder of the Averroes seal?"

"Averroes was a Muslim philosopher of the eleventh and twelfth
centuries.
He was crucial in the revival of Aristotle's thought that preceded the
development of scholasticism."

"Constantine, while you're
at
it, you should find out more about this Averroes person. Now what
about
these murders? Do these three Catholics have anything in common
aside
from their religion? Particularly, does anyone know anything
about this
Veruca Manzoni?" Just then Giles stepped in. Aquilla had
finally found the keys and they were about to leave.

"I actually have something very useful about Manzoni's death. You
see a few days after she died I went to the Philhellenon club and I
noticed
that a letter that had been sent to her had somehow been stuck under
the
door. Now obviously I shouldn't have opened it, but since it
would have
been lost anyway and as there was no return address, and since the
person who
it was being addressed to was dead, I opened it anyway. As it
happens I
have it right here." He took it out and showed to everyone.
The typewritten letter went as follows:
"Fifteen-Cyraenica-Massacre-Fool Self-Pity,
Meretricious-Guilty-Wasted-Italian
You-whore."

"What's a Cyraenica?"

"I already checked that out. It's a Libyan province."

"I wonder if we could trace the typewriter."

Giles shrugged his shoulders, while Aquilla started honking the horn of
her car
and they had to leave.

Vanessa brooded. "Well the only thing we found out from this
letter is
that somebody completely different is writing letters to me. It's
in a completely
different style."

"What about Senator Veniot's glasses?" asked Elizabeth.

"Well, it's evidence that he encountered a man sometime just before he
died.
But aside from that we can't find anything about him. I wonder if
we could
trace the chinese spice box."

"It would be tricky." said Charles. "The box could come
from a specialty shop, from a jeweler's store, or from a novelties
store.
There could be a dozen tobacco shops that might sell something that
intriguing,
and it could be sold in used bookstores, in antique shops, at church
thrift shops
or at garage sales. It would be almost impossible to find, and
besides,
we don't even have a picture of what the spice-box looks like. I
think it
would be best to presume that the police are doing their best to look
for it,
and to move on to other matters. Now what about the angel
that Mrs.
Concrete said she saw?"

"My mother probably mistook her for the stork. She sees that all
the
time. I wouldn't take this too seriously."

"But perhaps we should Elizabeth.
We should not be so hasty. After all, your mother did see her at
the same
time that Professor Hermann said he was going to have a meeting, or a
visitation from someone. It would really help if someone else had
seen an
angel floating around in the sky?"

"Lucian saw one." said Adrian.
"She saw it just as we were going to the party, right after she pushed
me
and Constantine into a snow bank. Of course she said it was a
joke."

"Lucian, did you really see an angel?"

Lucian was not wild about admitting it, but yes, she had seen
one. "But
it must be a trick or a fluke of some sort. I mean people don't
really see
angels nowadays."

"The way you don't see a rampant horde of insurance agents reciting
Wallace
Stevens running down the streets of Medicine Hat?
I think we have two sightings here, and I think that Lucian Rudman and
Mrs.
Concrete have too little in common to hallucinate the same thing within
three
days of each other."

"You don't literally believe there's an angel in Ottawa." said
Vanessa incredulously. "There must be a more rational
explanation. Perhaps someone had invented a flying device and was
practicing it out. Or perhaps it was a strange sort of
balloon. Or
perhaps Lucian mistook it for some sort of giant flying swan.
This sort
of thing makes no sense at all."

Charles gently chided her. "One should not have too firm a belief
in
the power of reason. There are more things in heaven and earth,
etc, etc,
etc. We should take a very careful look at the many strange
things we see
in the world today. Now supposing that we are seeing an angel, or
something like it, what is it here for? Might it have something
to do
with the Flannery O'Connor Brigade? Suggestions
anyone?"
The other five thought about the matter, and came to the conclusion
that if
there really was an angel, and it really was involved with the Brigade,
then
there was probably some very important reason for it, but they couldn't
figure
out what it was, and could only hope that Adrian's
burgling could provide an answer.

None of them could think of any reason about the invasion of Medicine
Hat or the butterflies, so that left them with
only
three questions; where Natasha Wilentz was, why marigolds were being
planted in
the carpet above them, and how could there be a conspiracy to kill
someone who
was already dead. For the first question they decided they would
wait
until Giles returned.

"I don't suppose she plants marigolds, because her carpet is so
wonderfully
fertile?" asked Lucian.

Elizabeth
brushed her aside. "If the Flannery O'Connor Brigade is planting
marigolds it must be because the Brigade needs them for
something. Either
it needs a lot of flowers for something, or because she's doing
something with
the marigolds that can only be done under special supervision."

"That's rather clever of you, Elizabeth." said Constantine, who
was ashamed of not having said anything useful for the past several
minutes. "Unless they are trying to make poison marigolds, it's
more
likely they are looking for a special ingredient. And that
ingredient--I
haven't the slightest idea what it could be."

"Then
you should look up marigolds in the encyclopedia, among all the other
things
you have to do." laughed Charles.

"Perhaps they're trying to create an anti-aphrodisiac of some sort."
suggested Adrian.

"I don't see why they'd bother," complained Vanessa, "since real
aphrodisiacs don't exist. I should know, I spent three weeks in
hospital when
a 'boyfriend' put them in my soup. Perhaps they're making some
hideously
innocuous poison."

"We're not going to find anything more about the marigolds." said
Charles.
"But what's this about a conspiracy to murder someone who is already
dead? The really weird thing about this is that when Elizabeth
called Cheryl, the good vice-inspector also mentioned this conspiracy;
apparently
Hermann had been warned about its existence and he mentioned it in his
notes. Now that would imply that the Flannery O'Connor Brigade is
not the
conspiracy, because they were afraid of it as well."

Constantine
spoke up. "Well the only other conspiracy going around is the
eight
of us. And we're not planning to kill anyone. So that would
mean that
there was a third conspiracy. Personally, I think this is getting
excessive."

"Perhaps it has something to do with our Thursday-night murderer?" said
Elizabeth. "I
certainly
hope so, otherwise this would be far too complicated, because there
would now
be four conspiracies. Of course, if the Thursday-night murders
are a
conspiracy, that would mean there would be two people bumping off
prominent
Catholics."

"Perhaps it's a metaphor?" suggested Vanessa. "This
conspiracy is going to commit some act that will make such and such a
person
turn over in his or her grave."

"I don't think so." said Constantine.
"From what I heard, they were talking about something much more
literal."

"Well I'm stumped." said Lucian, who took out her cigarette-holder
and a whiskey flask filled with charcoal and milk of magnesia.

"Yes, I think we've done all we can for tonight." said Charles.
"Well I'd like to thank you all for coming here. I think it was a
really good idea answering all the questions we've put towards
us. Now we
all have our special duties, so I propose that we meet over at my
apartment, which
won't be bugged, on Friday evening. You should all know where it
is, so
there's no need for me to repeat it, so that Ms. Roda Ellen Van P---
can find
out. In the meantime, you can have some of these snacks that Elizabeth
got for you."

Adrian
thought of something. "If there are all these holes in the carpet
couldn't Ms. Van P--- have heard everything we said? Won't she be
able to
track us to our next meeting?"

Charles smiled. "I certainly hope so. We could use the
company."
And the meeting adjourned.

Charles tapped Constantine
on the
shoulder. "Could you come into the bathroom with me for a
few
minutes?" The two went inside, and Charles carefully locked the
door. "Constantine,
we've known each other since we were in kindergarten. I have
something
very important to tell you. I should have told you earlier, but
it was
such a spur-of-the moment thing... What I'm trying to say is that
me and
Elizabeth, the two of us, we got married a week ago Saturday."

Constantine
was quite surprised, then immediately envious, which he tried to cover
up with
practical objections. "Isn't that a little rash? I mean,
congratulations, yes, but aren't you a little too young to get married?"

"I don't think so. I am finishing my degree this year, and I have
several
job offers lined up. But what I really wanted to ask you was
about something
different. You see, none of our parents know that we're
married. I
plan to tell them by Christmas, and they'll probably arrange some kind
of more
public ceremony, like a confirmation of our vows. When that
happens I want
you to be my best man."

Constantine
was so stunned at this honor that all he could do was gush various
compliments
at Charles. Charles shook his hand, and got ready to leave.
"Now remember, not a word of this to anyone. Only you and Vanessa
know
that we're married, and I'd like to keep it that way. I'd like to
talk to
your sister for a few seconds. I have something to give her."

Constantine
left the bathroom and told Lucian that Charles wanted to talk to
her.
Adrian, Vanessa and Elizabeth were all around having snacks and Elizabeth
had put on a tape that was playing some dance music that Constantine
did not like. Ordinarily in situations like this Constantine
would have had something to eat and would have tried to strike a
conversation
with Adrian. But for
some
strange reason he had completely lost his appetite. It was as if
the normal
feelings for hunger had been somehow turned inside out and were
signifying
something else. He felt vaguely nervous, and unsatisfied.
The
revelation of Charles' marriage was intensely depressing; it reminded
him of
all the romantic feelings that he knew he couldn't express. There
was the
unnerving thought that he admired literary characters more than people;
he was
reminded of stories he had read where a perfectly happy marriage had
come to
complete collapse, and he was reminded of all the novels he had read
where he
reacted more to some person's death more than he had to the deaths of
his own
parents. At times like this he would ring his hands in impotent
solitude
and wonder when it would be a good time to go home and start working on
his
fourth-order equations lectures. It was at these times he wished
he
shouldn't be thinking these thoughts, that far from being painful they
were
just a subtle evasion, that they were the results of sentimental
weakness, of
cheap self-pity, and that he was too rich and educated to whine about
his very minor
sufferings. Husbands are like vampires, feeding off their woman's
menstrual
blood. Constantine
wished he
was drunk so he would have an alibi for such shoddy metaphors. It
was
times like this that he wished he could be completely serious and leave
such
ephemera behind him, at times like this he wished he could gorge
himself with
lead, becoming a grey statue going about his business. He
remembered a
dream he had the other night; it consisted of Marx, Nietzsche, and
Freud doing
a vaudeville dancing act. "We'll never be that lucky." he
muttered. Just then Giles and Aquilla returned.

"Did you find your aunt?" asked Charles, who was just leaving the
bathroom
with Lucian.

"No, it was a complete disaster." said an angry Giles, who went over to
the table and began to gorge himself on raw potato-chips.
"Aquilla,
you have to be one of the most stupid drivers in existence. Ottawa
isn't that big a city, it's not that difficult to get from one place to
another. But she managed to get lost three times, and just when
we were
about to get there, Aquilla had to get a ticket for speeding. I
mean how
many speed traps can there be at eight-thirty at night?"

"So where's your aunt?"

"After we finally got there, it turned out that my aunt had just left
ten
minutes earlier. It appeared that after having stayed there for
three weeks
she was cruelly abusing their hospitality and just had to take her
leave.
She could be with one of the other members of the Brigade, she could be
at
another parish, or she could be at some hotel under an assumed
name. This
was our best chance to find her, and we blew it."

Giles sat himself down on the couch besides Constantine.
"You shouldn't blame yourself, Giles." said Elizabeth.

"I'm not. I'm blaming Aquilla." who petulantly sneered in
return. Charles sat down beside Giles, forcing Constantine
to get up. "Giles, after you left we talked about Ms. Van P---'s
marigolds. Do you know any reason for their mass production?"

"No, but I know of a way you can get into the apartment and find
out." And he took out the skeleton key that had been used in the
case of M. Savoir. "This is a skeleton key, an old souvenir from
one
of Dramsheet's cases. I carry it around in case I lose my real
keys. It can unlock doors that are locked on the same side, which
means
you're going to be most successful in opening the door when there's
nobody
home. Use it in good health." and he tossed it to Vanessa.

"Giles, there's one other question we had to discuss, and we had to
wait
until you got back. That's the question of where your wife
is. I didn't
tell you this before, but apparently when Hermann confronted my father
and
Vanessa's uncle he said he knew where she was."

"What! Where did he say she was?"

"Apparently she's in Amsterdam,
at the grave of Baruch Spinoza." With that news Giles leaped up,
scattered the chips everywhere, and dashed over to the telephone,
spilling
several more plates and knocking the tape player off the table.
He was
too nervous to hold the telephone book and kept dropping it, and soon
began to
panic, asking someone to punch in the area code for the Netherlands,
and he was only stopped when Elizabeth
firmly took the receiver out of his hand and hung it up.

"Why did you do that? I've got to reach Natasha, I've got to
speak
to her! For God's sake, give me back the receiver!"

"I have three good reasons why you shouldn't call the Netherlands
at this time."

"Name them!"

"Well for a start, it's rude to make long distance calls on somebody
else's
telephone." That was true, and it was enough to cow Giles into
listening
into the next two reasons.

"Second, you don't even know which cemetery Spinoza is buried in, so
how
are you going to find her? And third, it's the middle of the
night in Holland,
so you're not going to contact anyone at any of these cemeteries."

"What about the graveyard shift?"

"Be serious." said Constantine.
"You're just going to have to wait until morning."

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep." and he left, and soon afterwards
so did the others. Early next morning, Giles drove Adrian
to the front of the Philhellenon club. It was true, he hadn't
slept at
all, or had slept only very uncomfortably, and by the time he made the
call
there was no sign of his wife. Somehow he had expected this the
moment Elizabeth
had talked sense to him. Giles introduced Adrian
to the butler, and after showing him where Hermann's safe was he began
to
leave.

"What are you doing?" asked Adrian.

"Leaving. I'm not a student like you. I live in the real
world
and because of that I have to work. Ciao."

Adrian
was left alone and wondered what he could do. There were few
people in
the club this Monday morning. Near the windows facing the Justice
Ministry,
there was an accountant reading a Hungarian Language newspaper. A
female
member of the separate school boards was playing a bored game of
solitaire.
But there were none of the members that Adrian
had seen on his earlier visits before. He put his hands in his
pockets
and he felt the bug that Charles had given him, as well as the
photograph of
him with his uncle. He could sit down and ask for a drink and
wait for
someone more important to come along, but that made him nervous.
What if
Dr. Roget appeared? What if Madame Vovelle guessed that she was
being
followed, and suspected both Giles and Adrian? What if another
member of
the Brigade appeared, and Adrian
didn't know who he was? But he couldn't go out handing his
bonafides to
complete strangers.

And
just then, he saw the solution. Senator Nyere Naipaul was sitting
in the
Bernini Enclave, still working on his Swahili Calculus textbook.
The butler
entered the room and Naipaul motioned him to come over.

"Oh yes sir, I've forgotten so many of Pr. Hermann's little
dysephisms.
Like the way he called rubber balls condoms, or the way that aspirin
pills were
called birth-control pills."

"You seem surprised. Surely a men's club, with a few token women
as well,
must have everything for its members."

"I suppose you're right, sir, but I don't really consider anal sex to
be a
very large cheese omelet."

"That will be all, thank you."

Adrian
entered as soon as the butler left, and quickly introduced
himself.
Fortunately Naipaul knew his uncle fairly well and had a vague idea of
whom Adrian
was. With surprising concision, Adrian
explained the existence of the Flannery O'Connor Brigade, how Madame
Vovelle
was a member, how she was a thorough-going racist, and how the only way
to find
out what the Brigade was up to was to open the safe Hermann had in the
club.

"This is very serious. Fortunately for us all, I happen to have a
key to the room." And the two went upstairs. Naipaul
insured Adrian's
entry and the latter set to work on the combination, while the former
kept
watch.

"How is your progress?" asked Naipaul.

"Very well, actually." and indeed Adrian's
skills had not let him down. He quickly got through the tumblers
and was
very near the solution. "Tell me when you have the safe
opened."

"Too late, its done." And so Adrian
was. He looked inside and found a large number of papers and a
few tomes. Adrian
grabbed the
one on the top and
read out the title: Unofficial Canonization Procedures of the
Catholic church.

"Now give me all the books, without reading them."

"No, this is terrific, we'll find everything we want to know." but then
he heard the click of a revolver. Adrian turned around and
immediately realized
one great fact, the great fact that Madame Vovelle was not a racist,
chauvinist
or any other sort of unpleasant nationalist, that she would willingly
cut of one
of her own hands if it would insure the end of suffering of any
innocent human
being of whatever color or race, and that the only reason she ran
around the
streets of Ottawa yelling the silliest racist absurdities that she
could think
of, was so that Adrian Verrall and every other human being would not
realize
that Senator Nyere Naipaul of the Tanzanian parliament was none other
than the
Holder of the Averroes Seal.